


Doin' Things That Lovers Do

by Anonymous



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Canon-Typical Drinking, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Group chat, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Nicknames, Secret Relationship, Snuggling, Target, Team Breakfast, Texting, Wedding Rings, accidental Marriage Proposal, seriously so much snuggling, sort of??
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-23
Updated: 2016-07-23
Packaged: 2018-07-26 05:42:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7562560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Rans, c’mon babe, g’off me,” he whined, and Ransom laughed into his neck. “Hmmm, I changed my mind, stay here.” He wrapped his arms solidly around Ransom’s waist.</p><p>“Mmm, you’re warm, love you Holtzy.” Ransom said, quiet and close to his ear, voice tired and gravelly.  He reached back and grabbed the edge of the blue comforter, pulling it haphazardly up over both of them.</p><p>“Holtzy, do you wanna like, get married? Like, will you marry me?” </p><p>“Dude, you’re drunk, I’m drunk, go to sleep, we can talk in the morning.” Holster responds, trying to ignore his heart pounding at the concept of being actually married, not just in a ‘oh haha you’re so married!’ way, making whatever they have here official. He rubs small circles on Ransom’s back, and Ransom sloppily kisses his neck before falling asleep.</p><p>(Where Ransom and Holster get engaged and buy fuzzy socks, but nobody even knows that they've been dating.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Doin' Things That Lovers Do

**Author's Note:**

> wrowwww long time no fic sorry guys?? so this is my first like.. finished check please fic... i hope yall enjoy it!! ive read 80% of the the holsom fic on here so im dying goodbye 
> 
>  
> 
> please yell with me about holsom @ranholts on tumblr!!
> 
> this was written in a night, un-beta'd please be nice to me
> 
> if ur reading this write some holsom fluff soon and send me a link, everything is angst and everything hurts

Ransom pulled off his right sock, trying to piece together where the other one went through the course of the night, as Holster threw himself down on the bottom bunk. He tossed his sock into the corner hamper, balancing on one foot still. Settling his foot heavily on the ground, he walked across the attic to the bunk bed, opting to not take the treacherous path up the ladder and instead flopping down on the bottom bunk. Holster squirmed beneath him, giggling a bit and pushing at Ransom.

“Rans, c’mon babe, g’off me,” he whined, and Ransom laughed into his neck. “Hmmm, I changed my mind, stay here.” He wrapped his arms solidly around Ransom’s waist.

“Mmm, you’re warm, love you Holtzy.” Ransom said, quiet and close to his ear, voice tired and gravelly. He reached back and grabbed the edge of the blue comforter, pulling it haphazardly up over both of them.

“D’you take out your contacts?” Ransom asked, propping himself up on one elbow to look blearily at Holster.

“Yea, bro. You ever realize just how married we are?” Holster said, snorting a laugh and rubbing his not-so-recently shaved cheek on the back of Ransom’s neck.

“Dude that tickles, but like, we could be.. More married?” Ransom muttered, gently biting the closest part of Holster’s neck, delighting in the startled yelp that comes from Holster.

“Hmm?”

“Holtzy, do you wanna like, get married? Like, will you marry me?” 

“Dude, you’re drunk, I’m drunk, go to sleep, we can talk in the morning.” Holster responds, trying to ignore his heart pounding at the concept of being actually married, not just in a ‘oh haha you’re so married!’ way, making whatever they have here official. He rubs small circles on Ransom’s back, and Ransom sloppily kisses his neck before falling asleep.  
* * * * * * * *  
Sunlight spreads through the attic from the one small window, drifting into the bottom bunk where the two of them still lay. Holster wakes to Ransom pressing slow, sleepy kisses onto his shoulder, and keeps his eyes closed for just a minute longer, savoring the moment. Ransom has one arm around him and the other somewhere down by his leg, his chest pushed flush against Holster’s back and now focusing on kissing his neck, languidly pressing his lips below Holster’s hairline. Ransom shifts his leg and Holster opens his eyes, sighing and stretching out his legs.

“G’morning, dude,” Ransom mumbles against his ear, pressing a kiss there as well.

“Morning, bro. Pass me the water?” Holster responds. Ransom hums his assent, pulling his arm off Holster’s waist and hands him one of the bottles of water he keeps by the bed. After Holster drinks some, he takes it back and downs the rest of it, tossing the empty bottle into the corner. He nuzzles back into Holster’s neck, giggling at the tiny squeaking noise he makes.

“Dude, your nose is like ice, like a tiny ice cube stuck to a large, snuggly and warm man.”

“Hmm, your feet are colder.” Ransom says quietly, sticking his nose back into Holster’s hair specifically for the little giggle he hears in response. Holster wiggles backwards toward him, pressing his ridiculously cold toes into Rans’ shin and giggling again at his half-assed protesting.

“Holtzy, I’m buying you fuzzy socks as soon as I get out of this bed,” Ransom says, kissing lightly behind Holster’s ear again, interspersing his words with more soft kisses. “which will not be very soon, because I will be very dizzy if I try to stand up, and you are very warm and soft if I ignore how cold your feet are, and I fully intend on not doing anything for at least another two to three hours.”

"What color?” Holster asks, rubbing his feet on Ransom’s leg to try and restore heat.

“Blue, to match your eyes,” Ransom responds, pausing for a moment before continuing. “Let’s do maroon too, for the team’s colors, and green like that one shirt you have. Eh, maybe I’ll just buy you a whole rainbow of them, hmm?”

“What, with your doctor’s salary that you don’t have yet?” 

“No, but my aunt Sheryl and her wife sent me a prepaid card for my birthday and I hadn’t thought of something good enough to spend it on, but this works,”

Holster smiles, rolling over to his other side to face ransom. He props himself on one elbow, leaning down to gently kiss Ransom’s nose. 

“Babe, you spoil me, whatever can I do to repay you for this great service?” He grins, reaching to pepper Ransom with kisses, and soon both of them devolve into giggling messes. Holster sprawls himself on top of Ransom, loudly kissing his cheek before settling down to nuzzle his neck affectionately. They both fall back asleep like this, sandwiched together under a rumpled blanket in the mid-morning sun filtering in through the window.  
* * * * * * * *  
Holster wakes an hour later, then rouses Ransom with a cold foot on his leg and a whispered “Heeey, Justin.” Ransom grumbles in response, blinking up at Holster leaning over him.  
“How much d’you remember from like, last night?” He continues, dropping down into a weird semi-pushup to kiss Ransom’s forehead. “Like, I don’t personally remember much from like, Bitty and Jack walking back downstairs together and Lardo whistling at them, do you?” Holster says, sort of lying, but not really because what he does remember is fairly faded and might be just a weird booze dream, so it’s not really unreasonable to ask.  
“Hmm, not really very much past that I guess? I know I lost my left sock, which is weird because it wasn’t even a party just a normal Haus hangout, and I was kinda wasted so, not really.”  
“Huh. Dude, can I like, ask you something? Without it being weird?”  
“Bro, yeah, anything, what’s up?” Ransom responds, waking up a bit more and arching an eyebrow, looking concerned.

“Okay, so, like, this might’ve been a dream? Or something? But I think that like, you might’ve. Um. Y’know,” Holster says, gesturing oddly at the last part, clasping his hands together and looking meaningfully at Rans. “Askedmetomarryyou?”

“Wait, what? I like, asked you to marry me? Like, actually asked you?”

“Uhh, yeah, maybe, like, yeah? You totally did?” Holster says, resting his head on Ransom’s chest, getting momentarily distracted by how soft his shirt (or is that Holster’s shirt? They’ve sort of lost track of whose clothes were whose after a few weeks living together) is.

“Bro, was this a dream, or like, real thing? Cuz like-”

“Uh, I think it was probably just a dream, because I dunno if you’d ask me, that, not that’d I’d mind, but like-”

“Adam, shut up for a hot second, okay? You know I love you, right?”

“Yeah, I love you too, Rans. I’m sorry for even bringing this up, it was probably just a dream, we don’t have to rush anything.”

“Holster, Adam, babe, Adam Eugene Birkholtz, my soulmate, my swolemate, drift partner, light of my life, love of my life, my fellow d-man,” Ransom says, rambling a bit and trying to convince himself that he’s not nervous or anything. “Dude, Adam Eugene Birkholtz, and I definitely made up that middle name, will you marry me?” 

“Dude, Ransom, Justin Remington Oluransi and yeah I’m making a fake middle name for you too, there is absolutely nobody in the world I would rather spend the rest of my life with, so yeah, yes, yes, absolutely, I will definitely marry you, oh my god!”

Neither of them can help themselves from beaming, linking their fingers and Holster leans down to kiss Ransom and it feels so complete, everything feels perfect in this moment, just the two of them, Justin and Adam and JustinAndAdam, laying in a too small bed and so in love that nothing else matters but this moment. They’re both smiling too much for the kiss to be really truly perfect, teeth bumping together and breathily laughing into each other’s mouths.

“Dude, Eugene? Is that the best you could think of for my fake middle name?”

“Whatever, says the loser who came up with Remington!” 

“I’m your loser, though. Your loser forever and ever, babe.” Holster says, bringing up his and Ransom’s interlocked fingers to gently press a kiss to his knuckles. “You’re gonna have to buy me extra fuzzy socks now, seriously, I’m wearing fuzzy socks to our wedding, you brought this upon yourself!” He leans down to kiss Ransom again, sweet and lasting. “We should get matching bi pride socks, dude. I’m gonna google that, and we’re gonna wear bi socks to our wedding, it’s gonna be great, babe.”

“Holtzy, honey, I’ve gotta add something to the shopping list that currently consists of tabasco, lettuce, and fuzzy socks,”

“Huh?”

“Dude, we’ve gotta get rings, right?” Ransom answers, propping himself up on his elbows and chasing Holster’s lips for another kiss. 

“I think I have a ringpop in the second desk drawer,” Holster says between kisses, “But we should definitely get something more permanent.”

“Okay, first we’ve gotta get lettuce, huh? Wait, wait, no, priority on the socks, then rings, then lettuce can wait, lettuce is the lowest priority here, do we even have any-” Holster cuts him off with another kiss, letting go of his hand to cup his face and run a thumb along his cheekbones, oh those cheekbones, someone with a better way with words could write poetry about those cheekbones. He breaks away from the kiss after a few minutes, opting to pepper Ransom’s jaw, neck, and cheeks with tiny, soft kisses. 

“What’re we gonna tell the team? Like, do we have to keep this a secret or something? Can I cry this from the rooftops, please?” Ransom asks, pulling Holster over to the side to wrap his arms around him, holding him close and trying to fit both of them together on the small bed that has difficulty fitting two, large hockey players (benefit #23 of the bottom bunk: it’s a full, whereas the top is a twin, fitting them both more comfortably). 

“Dude, should we just text the groupchat? Like, when we get the rings?” Holster suggests, glancing over his shoulder at Ransom, who oh shit he’s engaged to how will he ever be over that.

“Yes, absolutely, like a ‘wow we’re engaged look at my beautiful fiance’ selfie, perfect.”

“Dude, no way, look at my beautiful fiance!”

“Maybe we’re just both beautiful and amazing, huh?” Ransom offers, kissing the back of Holster’s neck between words. 

“Hmmm, I’ll consider it.”  
* * * * * * * *  
Later that day, Ransom and Holster finally get out of bed and go out. That’s what they tell Bitty, when he asks like a concerned mother, “Where are you boys headed?”, they’re just going out for a while and they’ll be back later, don’t worry. They walk, hand in hand, not necessarily a new display but it felt new now, downtown to the nearest mall that has a jeweller’s shop inside. They talk to a nice girl at the counter, she has an undercut dyed purple and studs in her ears and knows Lardo from local art shows (she’s on the soccer team at Samwell, she has a familiar affection in her eyes when she talks about Lardo, and she has a tattoo of some words in Russian on her left bicep). Her name tag says Allison, and she recommends matching bands, simple yet dazzlingly shiny, dark metal with white and blue sapphires on the outside.  
They talk to Allison about inscriptions, wanting to personalize the bands in a way, and she says that she can do that free of charge for them, friends of Lardo and all that. They decide on something simple, “Holster” on one and “Ransom” on the other, each inscription showing the nickname of the bearer’s partner, fiance, future husband, soulmate. They pay for the rings, chat with Allison a bit more, and leave for the walk back.  
On the way home, they stop at a target that might be a bit out of the way to get home from the mall, but they don’t care really. Holster grabs lettuce from the refrigerated food aisle, and they both head to the sock section. Rans grabs ten pairs of the fluffiest, most ridiculously colored socks in the store, and they wander around for another few minutes.

“Hey, Holtzy, we should get like, a wedding registry. For our wedding. Yeah?”

“Can you just, say that one more time?”

“Hmm? Our wedding? The legal union of like, the rest of our lives? The two of us getting married, having a wedding, and living the rest of our lives together? Yeah, dude, for sure.”

“Rans, babe, we’re… We’re getting married. Ransom, Justin, sweetie, I will never in my entire life be able to deal with that, y’know?”

“And I’m excited to spend the rest of my life with you being unable to deal with the fact that we’re gonna be married. C’mere,” Ransom responds, pulling Holster down that dreaded 2” height difference by his sweatshirt collar, pulling him into a deep kiss, not taking his arm off his shoulder when they keep walking. They pay for their items and wait in the small, built-in starbucks for their lattes, discussing anything and everything.  
Back at the Haus, nobody is at home, at least not in the living room. They can hear Rihanna coming from upstairs, meaning Bitty is here, but no longer in the kitchen, and three pies are sitting to cool on the counter. Holster walks to the treacherous couch, laying sprawled across the cushions, and Rans joins him, flopping down on top of him, tucked under his arm, close and together. Switching on the TV, Holster finds a channel playing a Parks and Recreation marathon. He leans down a few inches to kiss the top of Ransom’s head, closing his eyes and just relishing the moment (even though there will be more moments like this, absolutely more, a whole lifetime of togetherness and just them). Bitty comes down after an episode or so, neither Ransom or Holster remember how many it’s been, and they dial it down just a little bit, less visible kissing yet still the usual physical affection and “platonic” love. Three hours and a pie (apple cinnamon with brandy in the filling) later, Ransom and Holster retire to the attic, claiming mutual exhaustion instead of just wanting to be closer, closer, closer.  
* * * * * * * *  
The team finds out a week later, after enough of what they thought would be enough blatant PDA for someone to tell that there was something going on. They don’t do it with a message to the group chat as they had planned, not at first. They just amp up the physical affection gradually, little bits at a time, until Holster kisses Ransom when he passes him the heaping toast plate during team breakfast on a rainy saturday and Bitty chokes on his coffee. Chowder pats him on the back, having not noticed what happened to cause the choking. Lardo raises an eyebrow, chewing her bite of eggs before loudly announcing that kissing during breakfast definitely constitutes a fine. Nursey and Dex are missing in action, apparently not coming down for breakfast yet and subsequently not gonna get any breakfast (Dex comes down half an hour later in Nurse’s sweatshirt, bleary-eyed and his hair rumpled, Nursey following behind him, Ransom and Holster whistle at them as they come down because apparently everyone’s outing their secret relationships this morning).  
* * * * * * * *  
It’s a chilly morning, rainy like the day before, Bitty made breakfast (Sunday breakfasts are a new Haus tradition, more extravagant and delicious than breakfast any other day), Adam is wearing a Samwell sweater that he’s fairly sure is Ransom’s, and it’s cold so they sit close to each other at the table, locking their spare hands together while they eat more waffles than anyone could dream of. Ransom takes a bite of waffle from Holster’s plate, smiling his most winning smile (and by the power of all things hockey, could that smile get him to do anything) and Holster tries to be mad. Lardo, across the table, wearing sunglasses indoors in the morning because art is hard and everything is too bright, puts another tally on her unofficial ‘how much money ransom and holster need to pay’ page of her ever-present notepad. She holds up her phone, presumably taking a picture to send to Shitty, still glaring (it’s too early to look happy). 

“Dude, we’re gonna owe so much money to the Jar,” Ransom whispers, and Holster smiles because it’s totally worth it. 

“Dexybear, why don’t you ever look at me like that?” Nursey asks Dex from down the table.

“Cuz we’re not married, Nurse, god,” Dex replies, blushing, and Bitty wants to swear off coffee for good because he just choked on his coffee for the second time in as many days, both times because of Ransom and Holster.  
Because he looks across the table at where Rans and Holster are seated, holding hands (as has become a regular occurrence), and sees something shining and gleaming on each of their hands. So, Eric Bittle chokes on his coffee, stands up from the table, and starts crying.

“Oh my GOD, you two, are you? Did you? When?!” He demands after he gains his composure from another coffee incident. 

“Well,” Holster starts. “We’ve been dating since, what, sophomore year? Right Rans?”

“Yeah, middle of sophomore year, you were drunk and asked me out, I wasn’t too drunk but you kept insisting that ‘drunk Holtzy doesn’t make promises that sober Holtzy can’t fill’, so we went out for coffee and kinda just kept doing that. Then, like, a week ago, I think I might’ve asked Holster to marry me while I was entirely schwasted? Or it was a dream or something? But either way, we talked and I asked him while we were… Not schwasted, and we went and got rings-”

“From a cute girl who has a huge crush on Lardo, I’ll have you know,” Holster interjects, rubbing small circles on the side of Ransom’s hand with his thumb.

“Yea, she was like, ridiculously smitten. So, yeah, that’s that.” Ransom finishes, smiling fondly over at Holster. The rest of the people at the table remain silent for a few minutes, until both Bitty and Lardo attempt to break the silence at the same time, and Bitty continues.

“You mean to tell me that you have been dating for three years? You have been dating for three years and engaged for a week and you didn’t tell anyone?” Bitty says, sitting slowly back down in his chair at the table.

“Yeah, dude, we thought it was fairly obvious with just how often we left parties together and got distracted on the bench, and all that jazz.” Holster responds, complete with jazz hand(s) at the end.  
“Okay, Bitty, for one thing? You can’t blame anyone for a secret relationship, do not interrupt me, and wait who is this girl what?” Lardo says, shooting Bitty a particularly bitter look when he tries to contest, and passing that look on to anyone else who tried to ask questions.

“Uhh, her name is Allison, she’s tall, she’s got purple hair, and she knows you from art shows,” Ransom replies, glancing to Holster for verification of his memory, and Lardo turns incredibly red. Dex and Nursey appeared to be fully engaged in their own conversation, but Nurse distracted himself for long enough to mention “Hey, Dex and Lardo are twins,” before continuing his rambling.  
Bitty grabbed Holster’s phone from across the table, swiping the camera open and snapping a very quick (yet impossibly clear and not blurry) picture of Holster and Ransom, leaning on each other, wearing each other’s clothes, eating each other’s waffles, being in each other’s space and being so, so happy (That picture might become both of their phone wallpapers, instagram icons, and may be sent to the group chat a few too many times to not be chirped for).  
* * * * * * * *  
SMH GROUP CHAT 

Birk.holster: [Picture Message: A blurry selfie of Holster, arm around Ransom’s shoulder, leaning in for a kiss, both of them grinning.]

shiiiiiiiiitty: foooiiiiine

Lar.duan: foooiiiiiiine

Sharksfan98: w8 what!!!!!!!

Bitty.baker: @sharksfan98 chowder my sweet boy how have you missed everything ;-;

JLZimmermann: It is just a white box with a small grey “x” inside. Bittle, what does this mean?

Bitty.baker: do u not have pics enabled jack !! DM me @JLZimmermann

J.olu.ransom: @birk.holster babe <3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3

dmnurse: get a room

dmnurse: jk

Wjpoindexter97: nursey why dont u look @ me like this :-\


End file.
